


Docthor Week 2K19

by fleecal



Category: Markiplier Egos
Genre: #docthorweek2k19, M/M, Mark Fischbach Egos, Please read the chapter summaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-08 06:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18889177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleecal/pseuds/fleecal
Summary: Docthor is the pairing of the Author (pre-transition to Host) and Dr. Iplier and will go from May 19, 2019, to May 25, 2019





	1. 5/19- First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Bapies. 2013 bapies.

Dr. Iplier twisted his lanyard nervously as he stood, waiting outside the makeshift meeting room. Not even a full week old, he was about to join his first “Iplier Meeting” to introduce himself to the other Ipliers. Or so the unsettling man who called himself Darkiplier had ordered him; without moving his mouth, smiling much too widely, with too many teeth, twitching sporadically. Dr. Iplier shuddered. Dark really was creepy. Hopefully, the others won’t be as odd. But what if they are? What if they didn’t like him? What if he blurted out some terrible news in the middle of the meeting? The doctor didn’t even know how many people would be there, only that he was expected to attend these meeting the first Friday of every month and the others he was meeting would all look exactly like him. He didn’t even know why they all looked alike yet but he guessed he’d find out as their doctor. Just then, Dark opened the door, grinning unnaturally at the Doctor. “You can come in now.” He said. Doctor Iplier nodded, took a deep breath and entered the room.

There were five chairs at the table of the meeting room but it was clear there was room to grow. Dark returned to his seat, head of the table, furthest from the door. At the other head sat a man who looked relatively normal other than his comically pink moustache, Warfstache the doctor intrinsically knew. On the far side of the table at another normal looking man, but he had peanut butter smeared all over his lower face, on top of which he kept smearing more. The last person in the room, sitting on the near side of the table between Dark and the empty chair was a man in a dark striped button-down. He was the only one of the four not wearing a tee-shirt. The doctor could see a metal baseball bat propped against the table next to him.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Hello. My name is Dr. Iplier. It’s nice to meet you all.” He gave the group a weak smile. The peanut butter man waved his grimy hand enthusiastically, giving a bright

“Hello! I’m King of the Squirrels!” The Doctor just smiled and nodded, slowly moving towards the empty chair. The man in the button-down seemed impassive but Warfstache was suddenly right next to the doctor, poking his cheek with the end of a pen.

“Oh, do tell us more, Doctor. Wilford Warfstache with AMZ news. Have you ever killed anyone, Doctor~?” Dr. Iplier began to sputter when Dark spoke.

“Will, why not we give him time to breathe, my friend? He’s only a week old and the four of us can be… intimidating. Sit down, Doctor.” He didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the words left Dark’s lips, Dr. Iplier was already in the chair.

After that, the meeting went along as normal. Well, what the doctor assumed was normal. Wilford proposed ideas. Dark smiled creepily and asked Wilford questions about his ideas. King kept announcing he was King of the Squirrels. And the man in the button-down said nothing, but Dr. Iplier saw he was writing in a notebook. “Hello. I don’t think I caught your name.” The doctor said quietly to the man. He didn’t look up from his book, continuing to write he grunted back.

“The Author.”

“Author? That’s… an interesting name. Do you have another name?” At that, the Author did look up, giving Dr. Iplier a smirk that made a chill run up his spine.

“Do you have a first name, Doctor?” He asked, his voice somewhat teasing. The doctor blinked.

“I guess not. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Author.” He said as he stuck out his hand. The aforementioned author took the hand and shook it.

“You too, Doctor.”


	2. 5/20- Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger In Fiction Chapter II came out on August 20, 2013. Worst News Doctor came out on October 27, 2013. That's over two months.

It was about two and a half weeks after the first meeting when the Author came to see Dr. Iplier. The physician was still getting used to running his clinic and was currently taking stock of his medical supplies when Author stumbled in, one hand on his stomach. It was clear from his movements that he was barely clinging to consciousness. As if on cue, when Dr. Iplier went over to him to ask what was wrong, the storyteller collapsed, barely giving the doctor enough time to catch him.

As Iplier lay Author down on one of the exam tables, he could see blood on Author's hand and seeping through his dark shirt. The Doctor carefully unbuttoned and lifted the shirt, coming face to face with sloppy bandages and, as far as he could tell, a bullet wound just below the ribs. The doctor began carefully removing the soiled bandages and examining the wound. It appeared he had been shot from behind and the pulled had gone through him without hitting anything fatal, barely missing his stomach and kidneys. The wound was clearly a few months old, probably had partially healed bur reopened. Author was losing a lot of blood so the Doctor began quickly cleaning and dressing the wound before things got worse.

* * *

 

Author came to a few hours later. He blinked and looked around, unsure where he was. There was the soft beeping of a heart monitor to his right. A hospital, perhaps?  He tried to remember what had happened. He was in the library. He needed a book on a high shelf. He should have used a stool to get it, but he thought it was low enough that he could get it without. He reached for the book and felt a sharp pain in his side, where he’d been shot in August. When he put his hand on his side, he could feel the blood starting to seep through his shirt. Was he with Dr. Iplier? They had a doctor now so it would make sense. But, how had he gotten here? Author looked down at his torso, which was now neatly bandaged. He placed a light hand on where he knew the wound was and it was tender but did feel a little better for the first time since being shot.

Just then, the aforementioned physician came around the corner. “Oh, you’re awake,” he said, putting down the bottle of peroxide he was holding. “I’m glad you’re alright. Mind telling me why you have an untreated bullet wound in your stomach?”

“King sadly never finished med school.” Author joked tiredly. The doctor rolled his eyes, gently moving the writer’s arm before carefully removing the bandages. “We didn’t have a doctor three months ago, so I had to make do- Ah!” He hissed as the doctor began cleaning the wound, which the author could see was now sutured closed.

“Well, it’s a good thing you do now. Get some rest, Author.” The doctor replied as she bandaged the writer back up. Author didn’t need to be told twice as he nodded and closed his eyes.

**Alternate Ending**

“Well, it’s a good thing you do now. You were close to bleeding out and had developed an infection. Hopefully I caught it in time, otherwise, it may have spread to your brain possibly leading to brain damage including loss of at least one sense or stroke. I’m sorry. You’re dying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know if the anatomy is accurate. I am also not funny.


	3. 5/21- Before/After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author has a bad case of Gay Disease.

Author watched Dr. Iplier longingly as the physician patched up King of the Squirrels, who had fallen from a tree again and bumped his head or something. He was a writer, a wordsmith, a master of language. He was the Author. He was skilled in manipulating lived. Why couldn’t he find the godforsaken words to tell the Doctor how he felt? It should be easy. ‘Hey, I like you. Do you want to go on a date?’ A few simple words. Should be easy. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t easy. Why wasn’t it easy?

Dr. Iplier gently helped the mammalian monarch to his feet, waning him to be more careful in the future or something like that. Author was not paying attention. As King scurried off, the doctor turned his focus onto his friend. “Are you alright, Author? You look a little red in the face.” As he said that, he put the back of his hand on the writer’s forehead to check for a fever. Author stepped back surprised, face growing even warmer than before.

He choked out an “I’m fine, doctor,” before straightening is back and putting on the most confident grin he could muster. “So, uh, I was thinking of seeing Devil's Due this weekend. Are you interested in seeing it with me?” The doctor raised an eyebrow at him, a gentle smirk gracing his lips.

“Oh? This doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that Friday is Valentines Day, does it?” He teased, but Author could see a soft blush across the Iplier’s cheeks. “I’d love to go on a date with you, Author. Maybe we can grab dinner afterwards?” The Author just nodded numbly at the doctor’s suggestion. He said yes. He said yes.

“Uh, yeah, sounds good. Yeah. I, uh, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go… write.” He muttered as he jogged out of the clinic. Dr. Iplier said yes to a date. The Author would be lying if he said this wasn’t the most excited he’d been in his entire life.

Meanwhile, back in the clinic, Dr. Iplier put his papers down on his desk as he tried to process what just happened. He had a date with the Author on the weekend. A real date with someone he liked very much. He looked up the movie they’d be seeing on his phone. A horror movie. Well, it’s not like the doctor had never seen gore before. Either way, he was very excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is slightly shorter. Also, in case it’s not clear, this is before and after Author asks Doc out. ;)


	4. 5/22- AU Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost AU.  
> I mention gun, murder, mental hospital and blood in this. Nothing graphic, but just a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK ME FOREVER AND A HALF BUT I’M SUPER PROUD OF IT

Dr. Valentine Iplier fumbled with his keys as he opened the door of his new apartment. He recently got a new job and luckily found a really nice apartment for a really low price not too far away. As of today, he was finally moved into his new home and ready to start living in it. He walked over to the couch and promptly collapsed onto it. He closed his eyes, dozing slightly when he heard a voice, clear as day, whisper “He is awake but too afraid to open his eyes.” Val sat bolt upright and looked around. He swore he heard a voice, but obviously, there was no one else in the apartment. Must have been a TV in another or something like that. Just the same, he did not close his eyes again.

* * *

That night, Val had a strange dream of a beautiful young man, sitting over a typewriter in a dark room. He looked tired, his amber eyes were dull and unfocused, his dark shirt and hair were damp with sweat. He was typing furiously, muttering to himself. Every so often he would rip a yellowed page from the typewriter and throw it to his left, where it would disappear into the darkness of the room. Val tried to hear what the man was muttering but all he caught was the word “End” before he woke up suddenly in his new bedroom.

He got out of bed and opened the window to get some fresh air into the room. He had never seen that man before in his life. But, in a strange way, he was familiar. His voice was familiar.

* * *

Things went on like that for a while. A few more times, he’d hear things. Sometimes snippets of words or sentences like something out of a novel. “The deceptive clutch of a mirage.” “The deep blue darkness around him.” “One last panicked look around his dreaded entrapment.” It just became part of Val’s daily life and he didn’t really think anything of it. Probably someone on the street outside. People in other apartments. His own mind conjuring words. Nothing to worry about, he'd tell himself. On days he heard things, that night he would dream about the man at the typewriter; watching him type and mumble. It never occurred to Val that the two could be connected. Just some weird dreams.

That is, until one night, a few months after he’d moved in, Val was reading before bed when he swore he heard a gunshot rip through the silence of the night. He over dashed to the window to see what had happened. The street was deserted other than some evening cyclists and pedestrians. Nothing abnormal. Maybe someone was setting off fireworks, he told himself, and he just didn’t see them. But he knew in the back of his mind that wasn’t what had happened. It had almost sounded like… like it was in the apartment. Heart still pounding, he turned off his bedside lamp and lay down.

* * *

He didn’t expect himself to be able to sleep that night, but eventually, he found himself in the dark room again. But this time it was different. It was like he was actually in the room. It all felt so much more real than all the times before. He walked over to the man at the typewriter. Val could see dark, sunken bags under the man’s eyes and blisters on the man’s fingers. Val looked at his page. The words were so clear. _The story was about a man named Icarus Yoon, a writer living in an apartment. He was a bestselling author but his books used the likeness of some of his neighbours without their permission so he wasn’t very well liked. One day, one of the neighbours confronted Icarus in his own apartment about the books. While Icarus was hashing it out with the neighbour, Icarus was shot from behind by another disgruntled neighbour who had entered the apartment unnoticed. Icarus lay on the floor, bleeding out for what felt like hours._ Every time the man got to the part where Icarus should have died from his injuries, he would rip the page from the typewriter and start over, muttering things like “No, no. That’s not right. Almost done. How does it end? Needs to be perfect. How does it end?” Val watched the man continue to work until suddenly, he looked up, straight at Val and said in a clear but tired voice. “Help me.” Val was about to ask how he could help when he woke up.

* * *

That morning, when Val went down to get his mail, he saw his neighbours William and Dominique Doom chatting by the mailbox. He greeted them tiredly, fishing out his key and opening his box. “Morning.” He said. Dominique nodded to the doctor, their expression as unreadable as ever but Will gave Val a wide grin. Sometimes Val wondered how two people who were so different could tolerate each other, let alone be married for almost seven years as Will liked to tell anyone who would listen.

“Good morning, chap! Late night at the hospital?” Will asked in a sing-song voice. Val shook his head.

“Had a really weird dream last night about a guy at a typewriter.” The doctor responded, looking through the letters he had pulled from his mailbox. Spam. Spam. Spam.

“Maybe it was the ghost of the man who got murdered in your apartment.” Will joked, causing Val to nearly drop the mail he was holding and look at the talk show host with wide eyes. Dominique elbowed their husband in the side.

“Will. Don’t scare him.” They warned, but Val shook his head.

“Wait, someone was murdered in my apartment? Can you tell me more about that?”

“Didn’t they tell you when you bought the place? Well,” Will began, as Dominique rolled their eyes and muttered something about going back upstairs and locking Will out, before leaving. “The man was a bit of a, shall we say, recluse. Not the nicest person either. Mostly kept to himself. Then, a year ago, he was having a dispute with a couple of neighbours when another man who lived here shot him in the back. I was home at the time, heard the gunshot and called the police but it was already too late. Poor guy. Least it was quick. Dominique and I live on the floor below you, so we didn’t know the people very well, but I think the one who shot him plead insanity and is in a hospital. The other neighbour moved out real quick after that.” Will finished, looking thoughtful, almost sad. Val tried to take in all the information he had just been given. That story seemed to match the one he’d read in the dream.

“What was the guy’s name?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Well, from what I know his real name was Hanuel, but he started going by Icarus when he emigrated from Korea. Kind of ironic in hindsight.”

“Thank you very much, Will. This gives me a lot to think about.” He said, closing his mailbox roughly and hurrying back to his apartment without another word.

* * *

That night, when Val went to bed, he knew he was ready. After the conversation with Will, he had gone back to his own apartment and spent most of the day doing research about the murder of Icarus Yoon. Will was right. He was a best-selling thriller author, who had emigrated to the states from Korea when he was five. When he was 25, about a year ago, he was shot and killed in his own apartment by a neighbour who mistook the yelling for Icarus attacking another neighbour. Paramedics tried their best to save him, but it was too late and Icarus was pronounced dead on the scene. He left behind only his mother. From what Val could tell, he didn’t even have any close friends. There was a picture of Icarus too, probably from the about the author section from his books. It was the same man Val saw in his dreams, though he looked less exhausted in the photo. The articles talked about his death like it was a great loss to the world of literature but Val just felt sad for his mother, who had to bury her son. As he drifted off to sleep, Val knew what he had to do and how.

* * *

Then he was in the dark room. For the first time, Val looked around and realized this was his living room, just unnaturally dark. He walked over to the man at the typewriter, whom he now knew as Icarus, and for the first time, Val noticed that his shirt wasn’t just damp with sweat but also with blood from a hole just below Icarus’s left ribs. He was typing away on his typewriter and muttering to himself, as always. Valentine took a deep breath before he spoke. “I know who you are, Icarus, and I want to help you.” Icarus did not respond, continuing to type and type and type, muttering to himself the same things.  That’s when it occurred to Val, among other things, Icarus kept asking how it ended. He didn’t know how the story ended because he was dead. Gently, Val put his hand on Icarus’s shoulder and began telling him the ending. “Icarus sadly passed away on the floor his apartment as the paramedics tried but were unable to save him. He was pronounced him dead at the scene. The man who shot him plead insanity and is currently in a hospital receiving treatment.”

“And?” Icarus didn’t look up from typewriter. Val frowned. What more could he want? That was the end. The end of the story he died. Wait.  No. That wasn’t the end.

“A year later, a young doctor named Valentine Iplier moved into the apartment. He realized Icarus was still trapped there and looked into Icarus’s demise, figured out Icarus’s unfinished business and helped the writer finish his story so he could move on and finally be at peace.” Icarus smiled as he typed down the last words before giving a satisfied

“The End.” He took the paper out of the typewriter, but instead of throwing it, he placed the page on the desk before standing up to face Val. “Thank you, Valentine.” He sighed. Then Icarus gave him a kiss on the cheek and Val woke up in his bedroom, the morning light streaming in through the blind. He had crossed over. Val could feel it. Icarus was at peace.

Valentine didn’t hear things in the apartment or dream of Icarus anymore after that, as he suspected he wouldn’t. In a small way, he missed Icarus but he was happy he was finally able to rest.

* * *

A week later, Ji-Min Yoon was visiting her son’s grave when she found fresh flowers already resting in front of the headstone; white poppies. She smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White Poppies represent Consolation, dreams, modern, peace


	5. 5/23- Monstrous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 👁️

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a different format today. Iambic pentameter. Because I’m weird.

 

> How many eyes are too many eyes, dear?
> 
> Are three too many? What of five? Or ten?
> 
> Thousands upon thousands of eyes seeing?
> 
> I have more eyes than you can imagine.
> 
> Do not look upon me mortal, turn away.
> 
> Do not look upon me for I am monstrous.

* * *

 

> I was cocky. I thought I was a god.

> I toyed with people's lives with disregard.
> 
> One of my puppets was none too happy.
> 
> So I was cursed for my sinful hubris.
> 
> I am Icarus and flew into the sun.
> 
> An eye for many eyes. I was made monstrous.

* * *

>  Hidden from the world I stayed after that.

> Who would dare to gaze upon such a beast?
> 
> A hideous monstrosity such as me?
> 
> What would the mortals do if they saw me?
> 
> Would they run? Scream? Or try to end my life?
> 
> So hidden I remained, alone and afraid.

* * *

>   
> But then he came. The doctor Valentine.

> His gaze met mine. Two eyes meet millions. But
> 
> He didn't shy away. He was not afraid.
> 
> He gave me a smile. A real, warm smile.
> 
> Even with my countless eyes to see all,
> 
> how long had it been since I saw a true smile?

_**And in his eyes, I was no longer monstrous.** _


	6. 5/24- Unexpected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Raven. But bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda gave up on this. IDK. The first paragraph is from Edgar Allen Poe’s Raven.

> Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
> 
> Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
> 
> While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
> 
> As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
> 
> “ ‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
> 
> Only this and nothing more.”

* * *

> As I arose, eyes still bleary of sleep, I wonder who had come to my seek.
> 
> Was it even I for whom they sought, or were they merely a traveller lost.
> 
> As I slowly opened up my chamber door, I was met with a young and wet doctore.
> 
> His smile was warm and shy, his clothes damp from rain and frost.
> 
> As he shivered, I invited him into my home. I told him “You look tired to exhaust.
> 
> Come in. I will be your host.”

* * *

> Once we were within my warm abode, I asked his name, why he was on my road?
> 
> He told me he was lost, caught in a terrible storm of rain and hail.
> 
> He was shivering as we spoke and looked terribly pale.
> 
> I told him to sit and that I would fetch him some tea.
> 
> Until this storm passed, he could stay here with me.
> 
> I asked once more, not to be asinine, what was his name. He responded
> 
> Valentine


	7. 5/25- Free Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know this is hella late. Also, the ending is kinda wonky. I wanted to get this done because, as I said, it’s late. Also, my brain is all fuzzy tonight. IDK.
> 
> It’s a ghost AU. Hospital mention. A guy smacks his head on a desk and dies. Hope that’s enough warning.

Icarus Yoon could see ghosts. He’d been able to do so since he was a child. His grandmother had been able to as well and she had taught Icarus how to deal with the wailing dead. Which is why he wasn’t terribly surprised when he woke up one morning with a strange man in his bedroom, staring out his window. No, what surprised Icarus was how damn attractive this man was.

The ghost appeared to be a doctor, wearing a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. He looked young, likely his mid to late 20s. He had a bit of a scruffy beard and curious mahogany eyes that watched the world outside of Icarus’s bedroom. Icarus pretended the spectre wasn’t even there, as he had done countless times before, continuing with his morning routine as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He noted that, at the very least, this doctor respected his privacy, not entering the washroom when Icarus closed the door. He assumed the ghost would be gone by the time he came back out.

There are two kinds of ghosts, active and passive. Active ghosts were the more vengeful, angry ghosts who wanted to harm the living. Passive ghosts were more harmless, usually there to aid, warn or watch over the living. Usually, if they didn’t think they would get a reaction or whatever they wanted from the living, passive ghosts would leave. This ghost didn’t seem angry or attention-seeking, so Icarus pretended he couldn’t see him and assumed he’d go away. But, when Icarus came back to the bedroom after his shower, he found the doctor still there. He was still standing at the window, looking out, his arms folded loosely in front of him. Icarus could see a dark red wound at the base of the doctor’s skull. The living man said nothing and began to get dressed. It wasn’t until he was buttoning up his shirt that the doctor, without looking away from the window, finally spoke: “I know you can see me.” Icarus tried not to jump, being startled by the sudden sound and his fingers fumbled with his buttons. He continued with his shirt and went to the door. “Fine. Ignore me. I’ll be here when you get back.” he said as Icarus left the room. The doctor sounded… almost sad.

* * *

The doctor was true to his word. When Icarus came into the bedroom the evening, he was still at the window. Why was he at the window? Why that window? Why here? When Icarus chose to rent this house, he had made sure no one had died in or even remotely nearby. The closest anyone had died was the hospital a few blocks over- …The hospital that could be seen from that specific window. Oh. Icarus sat on his bed. “I’m not acknowledging any spectres that may or may not be in my home, but should there be a passive spectre in my house, I ask what you may want.” Icarus could see the doctor roll his eyes as he finally turned from the window, meeting Icarus’s eyes.

“Nothing really. Just… I don’t know. Someone to talk to. A friend.” The clairvoyant looked away, pointedly. “Stop that. Look, I’ve been in the house since you moved in. I was watching you but I wasn’t able to apparate until today. I know you can see me. I know you are a writer and work from home. I’ve seen you help others cross over before. I’ve actually tried to speak to you before but I didn’t have enough… ghost energy or whatever. Until today.” He looked sad. “I’ve been lonely, Icarus. All I want is someone to talk to. Please…” He sighed. Icarus watched him. Everything he had learned was ignoring them or get rid of them. Ghosts weren’t people anymore and didn’t really feel. Even passive ghosts usually just watched or told you something then left. They didn’t normally… still feel. Especially not loneliness.

“So what changed?” The doctor looked over, Icarus meeting his eyes. “If you couldn’t appear or talk to me until now, what changed?” The doctor frowned then looked out the window.

“I don’t know. I was looking out the window, you woke up, but I could see you react to my presence for the first time. I don’t know. I could tell you weren’t just ignoring me until today.” Icarus frowned.

“You’ve been here the entire time, you said? And I couldn’t see or hear you? Is that normal? For some ghosts to be unable to be perceived, even by people like me?” The doctor shrugged.

“I don’t know. Maybe that’s why some ghosts become angry, because” Icarus sighed. This was weird, even for him.

“Well, maybe we could figure it out. Let’s start with who you are.” The ghost doctor walked over and sat next Icarus. The bed shifted under him, which was strange.

“Well, my name is Valentine Iplier. I was a physician at the hospital a few blocks over. Head of a department, but I don’t remember which but I remember I was quite young compared to others in my position. One night, I went into my office and find one of the doctors who worked under me in there, stealing a file. Honestly, I don’t know what he was doing. I confronted him, put my hand on his arm. He pushed me back. My desk was behind me. I remember a sharp pain, the sound of bone breaking, then I was here. I was confused as this isn’t even my house but then you moved in a week later.” Icarus thought back to when he had moved in.

“I remember hearing about that. Apparently, the guy had felt he should have been head of the department because he was older than you, so he was trying to frame you for embezzlement. But you caught him, there was an altercation… And you lost your life. That, uh, sucks. I guess.” Valentine chuckled; a sound that made Icarus’s heart flutter.

“Wow. Your mastery of the English language is astounding.”

“Heard the guy tried to run but the police were close- wait, give me a second.” Icarus turned on the news and, sure enough, after an 11-month chase, Dr. Hector Sneet had been arrested and was being brought back to Los Angeles to face charges for the murder of Dr. Valentine Iplier. “Guess that’s what changed. Don’t know why you’re a lonely ghost in my house though.”

“Maybe my spirit was attracted to your medium energy.” The dead doctor joked. And once again Icarus’s heart fluttered.

And that’s how Icarus Yoon gained a ghost roommate.


End file.
